


Half a King, at Best

by 1_NoName_among_many



Series: Half a King, at Best [2]
Category: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston
Genre: (which I don't), Also most of the same characters from part one that got a mention get a mention here, And Philip has learned his lesson about a certain slur, Angst, Baby Prince Henry, Baby Princess Catherine, But Mazzy's a calculating witch and knows the benefits, Canon Compliant, Gen, I'm not tagging them again, If you count the bartender and Philip's equerry, Mazzy decided to breast feed by the way, Much less swearing this time, Not sure how realistic that is, Post-Canon, So it's not in here, There are 3 original characters:, Theresa the Therapist, from a little thing called Consequences, it goes up to 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:40:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23151880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1_NoName_among_many/pseuds/1_NoName_among_many
Summary: Philip and Martha successfully produce heirs.  Will they successfully become parents?But first, will they successfully become people?
Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Dottie & Stu from This Morning (RW&RB), June Claremont-Diaz/Nora Holleran/Percy "Pez" Okonjo, Philip Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor/Martha Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor
Series: Half a King, at Best [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1664290
Comments: 2
Kudos: 34





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my second fic, a continuation of the first. I spent less time editing it, but still way too much.
> 
> Also, the title of the first part has kind of grown on me. It fits with the theme.

Phillip was annoyed. He just didn’t see the point of this. He had much more important things to attend to than his heirs’ birth. I mean, yes, they would be the next in line for the throne, and finally give Henry that breathing room he always wanted. Although was it really worth it? That was another thing he didn’t understand.  
Thank goodness Mazzy understood. When she went into labour and Beatrice and Mum frantically called him to get to the hospital ASAP, they were absolutely livid that he didn’t drop his very important meeting with the Lord Mayor of London. But Mazzy shut them both up and said she did not need Phillip for this and the meeting was much more important and he would get there when he gets there. She would make a great queen one day, and they both knew it.  
It did make the meeting with the Lord Mayor go much more favourably though. It helped that the old fool was sentimental. When it was finally over, he and his PPOs drove leisurely to the hospital and then walked leisurely to Princess Martha’s room. When he got there, Mazzy and Beatrice were dozing.  
Mazzy was radiant. To be honest, she was more than a little disheveled, but it wasn’t anything he hadn't seen before, and he did love her, in his own politically-minded way. He kissed her on her forehead, carefully, so as not to wake her, and then twitched his sister’s shoulder rather gruffly.  
She moaned a little, and then her eyes snapped open.  
“Oh hello, Your Highness, so gracious of you to finally grace us with your presence.” Her voice was dripping with sarcasm.  
“Can it, Bea, where are the new heirs?”  
“They’re in the bassinets over there.” She pointed at them, on the other side of the exhausted mother, one pink, one blue. “The blue one’s the boy, and the pink one’s the girl. And they’re your children first, you prick!”  
Phillip rolled his eyes. “Thank you dear sister.” He walked around Mazzy to get a first proper glance at his heirs. He never really got children. Annoying little bugg– ahem, blighters, and they always start out as ugly little pink loaf things with an odd resemblance to Winston Churchill. 

And then he actually saw them, and the world changed. 

To be fair, it didn’t actually change. The world was still the same old world. His children still looked like ugly little pink loaf things with an odd resemblance to Winston Churchill. And he still didn’t see the point of being present for the birth. But there was something different that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.  
“Phillip, are you alright?” Beatrice noticed it too, then. He must have been trembling at the sight of his beautiful little darlings. Or maybe he finally relaxed after all those years being the perfect heir? Or maybe — “Philip, you’re crying.” Oh. Maybe it was that.  
He wiped his eyes. He picked up his darling little son. The new prince was so small and delicate and precious. Philip’s eyes welled up again. He blinked the tears away.  
“Bea, which child came out first?” His voice was shaking. It didn’t suit him, but he didn’t care.  
Bea looked puzzled, but answered the question. “Your son was born first. Why?”  
Philip didn’t answer, not directly. “Hello Henry, welcome to the world. I am your father. I’m sorry I didn’t get to greet you properly, but I had a very important meeting with a very important person.”  
“Henry? You’re naming your son Henry? Why?”  
“There’s going to be a Henry IX one way or the other,” Philip said resolutely. The tears were coming back though. “It’s the least I could do after everything I’ve done to him. To all of you.” Ah, let them fall.  
“Oh, I see. And if your daughter had been born first, you would have named _her_ Henry, I presume?”  
“No, Henrietta. I’m not an animal.”  
Little Prince Henry was beginning to fuss.  
“Give him here,” commanded Mazzy, who had awoken seconds before. “The prince is hungry.”  
Phillip did as he was bade, then fetched his daughter. “Hello Catherine, welcome to the world. I’m sorry I didn’t get to greet you properly either. Are you hungry too?”  
In answer to that, the little princess started fussing as well.  
Once the royal twins were settled in for a hearty lunch at their mother’s breast, Mazzy beamed up at her husband. “I see you went with the names I picked.”  
“Yes, well, what else could I do? You were right. They are precious little lumpkins.”  
Beatrice sniggered at that. “Does this mean you will be less of a prick from now on?”  
“We'll see.”

Over the next few days, doctors and nurses and various dignitaries came in and out of the room to check on the new mother and her babies. Phillip spent every sleeping minute, and more than a few waking minutes, by their side. Beatrice and Catherine, the elder, also spent quite a bit of time with them as well. When Henry and Alex finally came in from New York, it was a sight to see.  
“Oh they're so cute!” Big Henry had picked up little Henry and was cradling him enthusiastically.  
“They look like Winston Churchill.” Alex was less enthusiastically holding baby Catherine.  
“All babies look like Winston Churchill, Alex. It’s the law.”  
“Maybe over here in jolly old England, but I assure you, I looked nothing like this little pink loaf.”  
“Alex, don’t be obnoxious!”  
“Oh, don’t complain Henry, we all know you like it.” Phillip cut in to take his daughter back. “Besides, he’s right. He would have been a little brown loaf.”  
“Phillip!”  
“What, we were all thinking it.”  
“That doesn’t mean you have to say it!” Henry was incensed.  
“Hey, so,” Alex cut in, “what are their names?”  
“Well, the girl here is Catherine Beatrice Elizabeth Anne —”  
“No Martha?”  
Mazzy smirked, “Oh no, I hate that name. No way was I ever going to saddle my daughter with it.”  
“Ah.”  
“As for the boy,” Phillip continued, “his names are Henry Arthur Alexander Phillip.”  
Henry and Alex shared a sideways glance.  
“Alexander?” Alex asked.  
“After the famous Macedonian conqueror, of course.”  
“Of course." Alex was not convinced. "You do realize he was bisexual too, right?”  
“He was Greek, so yes. Now please don’t push your luck. Little Henry hasn’t been officially christened yet, so I reserve the right to change his names.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't mention this last time, but Queen Mary III's penchant for getting Prince Arthur's name wrong is not her growing senility. It's her way of saying Arthur was not fit to be king consort without coming out and saying it.  
> She always starts the list with "Lancelot", the knight that "stole" Guinevere from Arthur and ended the Arthurian golden age as a result. Then comes "Percival", whose silence lost the Grail and failed to heal the Fisher King. Then comes an essentially random list of any Knight of the Round Table but Arthur or Galahad (the perfect one).  
> If she's feeling particularly malicious, she goes as far as "Mordred", the traitor who actually ended the Arthurian golden age.

A few weeks later, with little Prince Henry and little Princess Catherine safely baptized and squirreled away in Anmer Hall, Prince Phillip met with his grandmother, Queen Mary III. It was not going well.  
“What about Cheltenham?”  
“His son came out yesterday,” Phillip answered coolly. “He was shocked, of course, but when push came to shove, he sided with his son.”  
“Blast!” The queen slammed her spoon into her teacup. A little tea splashed out. “Wait, I thought he only had daughters?”  
“So did he. Turns out the eldest is trans. And once old Cheltenham realized he had a way to keep the estate from his brother, he leapt at the chance.”  
“You cannot be serious!”  
“Hey, I think it’s vile too, but politics is politics.”  
“Ugh.” The queen sopped up the spilled tea from her little outburst, then examined the cup for cracks. “Good old china, you will never break ranks on me! What about Burgundy?”  
“You know how Burgundy never had children?”  
“Oh no.”  
“Oh yes. He came out when he heard about Cheltenham’s son.”  
“BLAST!” The queen racked her brain for more supporters.  
“What about Derby?”  
“She switched sides last month, Gran,” Phillip said. “You know that.”  
“I do? I do.” She hated it when her daughter was right. And that man from Harley Street was not any better. “Oh, how I miss the good old days, when your mother was a proper princess.”  
Something clicked in Phillip’s mind. “When was Mum ever a ‘proper princess’?” he asked.  
“After that movie star died. What was his name? Lancelot? Percival?”  
“Arthur,” Philip scowled. “My father.”  
“Oh yes, I knew it was something like that.” The queen waved it off dismissively. “It was so fortuitous how he came down with that illness when he did.”  
Something else clicked in Phillip’s mind. “Do you mean to tell me that you preferred to have your daughter suffering and in pain, and, by extension, the three of us suffering and in pain, rather than happy?”  
“Well, you have to admit, it was much easier for us to rule this country, was it not?”  
This time, something snapped in Phillip’s mind. His eyes narrowed. His brow furrowed. “You don’t get it do you?”  
“Get what?”  
“What it means to be a parent.”  
“What is there to get? You have children, you raise them to adulthood, and eventually they replace you. Hopefully after your death.” The queen grimaced at that. She poured more cream into her tea. “Wait, I did that already, didn’t I?”  
Phillip was trembling with rage. “But parenthood isn’t just about making the next generation! It’s about protecting them! Supporting them! Letting them be themselves! _Whatever those selves may be!”_  
“Phillip, where is this coming from?”  
_“I don’t know!”_ Phillip shouted. “Wait, no, that’s a lie.” He sat back down. He hadn’t even realized he was standing. “I’m a father now, Gran, and, and my world changed. I don’t know how, but it did. And little Henry and little Catherine are so sweet and innocent and I don’t want to see them get broken the way Mum did, or Henry, or Bea, or... or me!”  
“You are putting the cart before the horse, Phillip. They might not turn out like Henry or Beatrice or—”  
“THAT’S NOT THE POINT!” Phillip was livid now. “My children have the right to be themselves, _whatever those selves may be!_ I will not stand idly by while you let the world tear them to pieces! Not like you did Mum, not like you did Henry, not like you did Beatrice, _not like you did me!_ ” Phillip slammed his fist on the table.  
The queen’s teacup bounced precariously close to the edge. The queen caught it, barely avoiding a catastrophic spill. “Phillip! I would expect this sort of nonsense from—”  
“This isn’t nonsense, Your Majesty!” Phillip leapt upward, towering over her again, his voice full of bile and vitriol. “The way I see it, you have two choices. You can either get down off your high horse, and lead this country the way _it wants to be led_ , or you can give the reins to your daughter and lock yourself in your ivory tower until the _day you die!”_  
He was at the door now. “Whichever choice you make,” he faltered slightly, tears in his eyes, “tell Dad I am very deeply sorry.”  
The door opened and the door closed, and Phillip was gone.  
The queen’s teacup fell from her trembling grasp. It shattered on the floor.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I gave Philip the names "Arthur" for his father and "Henry" for _Henry V_ , the play Arthur Fox was performing in when Princess Catherine met him. I'm assuming that's also where Henry got his own name from. As for "William", I just needed a fourth name.

After his outburst at Buckingham, Phillip raced back to Anmer as fast as he could. He had to see his children again.  
When he got there, his mother, wife and sister were waiting in the sitting room.  
“Oh, Pip,” the soon-to-be-Queen Catherine called out to her son. “How did things... go?” She noticed the tears welling up in his eyes. “What happened?”  
“I’m,” Philip faltered, “I am so sorry for everything I put you through, Mum. The way I let the queen use me as– as a cudgel. Against all of you.”  
“Oh, Phillip, it’s alright, if anyone should be apologizing, it’s me, for abandoning you all in my grief, and—” Now Catherine's eyes welled with tears.  
“No, no, I was an utter bellend to all of you, when I should have been a son and a brother and a h— ”  
Mazzy hugged her husband in a deep embrace. “What did you do?”  
“I had a row with the queen. You were right, Mazzy. You're always right. She never loved any of us. We were just tools to her.” The tears poured out of his eyes. He hugged his wife back. “I never should have trusted her. I told her she had two choices. Lead this country the way it wants to be led, or give up the throne. Then I told her to apologize to Dad for me.”  
At this, Beatrice did a literal spit take. Coughing and spluttering, she said, “You told Her Majesty the Queen of England, our grandmother, to go to hell!?”  
“Beatrice!” Her mother was about to launch into an ill advised tirade, but  
“Yes.”  
“Phillip! Your father is not in Hell!”  
“He was an atheist Mum, to his dying day,” Phillip remarked beleagueredly. “That is where they go. More to the point, that is where the queen thinks they go, and she may be getting senile, but she heard what I meant loud and clear.”  
“I- You- I— ”  
“Pippy, dear,” Mazzy came to the rescue, “I think the children are hungry. Would you mind fetching a bottle and feeding them for me?”  
“Yes, gladly. Are the bottles warmed?”  
“Unfortunately, no.”  
“I will take care of it.” Phillip left.  
Mazzy sighed and turned to her mother-in-law. “You know, Catherine, I never did like you. And I met you long before Prince Arthur died, or was even diagnosed, so it isn’t that. Please, don’t interrupt, Beatrice, your mother needs to hear this.  
“Phillip will never tell you this, and if you ask, he will deny it, but you and Bea are not the only ones who fell apart at the seams over Prince Arthur’s death. I did my best to glue him back together, but the queen got a hold of him before it was all dry. And now that he is a father, now that he can see the queen for the monster she is, he is coming undone again. I need a husband, my children need a father, and _he_ needs a _mother_.  
“If you have any decency, you should be able to see that. He needs someone who understands what he is going through right now, someone who has been through it and come out the other side. Someone whose world changed the moment they laid eyes on their glorious creation. And yes, I am one those people, but I am in the thick of it myself, and I have been holding him together for long enough. Go. Fix.” the princess-in-law commanded her future queen. 

“Phillip, dear, are you okay?” Princess Catherine asked as she walked into the nursery.  
Phillip was bottle feeding his daughter while tears streamed down his face. “Ha-have you ever j-just looked, just looked! at your children and burst in-into tears over how delicate and sweet and precious they are?”  
The mother kneeled down to her son. “Of course I have, Pippy. With all three of you. And I am ever so sorry I abandoned you the way I did. And even after I came back, it never occurred to me that you might be hurting too, so I’m extra sorry about you.”  
“T-to be fair, I did a very good job of hiding it. Mostly by– by being a jerk.”  
“Phillip Arthur William Henry. You are my eldest son, my first child, and I love you more than life itself. The day you were born, through the haze of pain and painkillers, the one moment I remember most clearly was when I first caught a glorious glimpse of you, and the world changed. Everything turned on its head, and I realized, I did this, I brought this life into the world, and I would do everything in my power to make sure the world doesn’t hurt him. And then I let the world hurt you. I will never forgive myself for that. For any of it. I’m so very sorry I let you down like that, and—”  
“Please, Mum, don’t let’s keep apologizing. We will never be done. Let’s just say we are both sorry and we both accept each other’s apologies and call it done.”  
Catherine smiled a little. “Very well,” she said, “Deal.”  
“Thank you.”  
Little Catherine was fed in silence for a while.  
“Did I ever thank you,” the elder Catherine suddenly said, “for getting Mum to convert my marriage?”  
“Why would you? I didn’t do it for you. I did it so I could be Duke of York.”  
“I know that, but the fact remains, I am grateful you did it. It meant so much to me, to both of us.”  
“And he only had to get cancer to make it happen.”  
“Phillip!”  
“Sorry, too soon.” Baby Catherine finished her bottle. “Would you like to hold her, Mum?”  
“Would I?”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea how British morning shows work. But then, I have no idea how American ones work either.
> 
> Also, I'm assuming Philip heard about _The Favourite_ , hence the comment about Sarah Churchill. 
> 
> I also like to think he's a fan of _Downton Abbey_ , especially the Dowager Countess. And since his father was an actor, he probably has Dame Maggie's autograph hidden away somewhere.

"This is _This Morning_. I'm Dottie,"  
"And I'm Stu,"  
"And today we have Prince Philip, Duke of York."  
"And, if all goes according to plan, our next king."  
The audience clapped on cue as Philip came on stage and sat on the couch. He had an air of resignation.  
"So, Your Highness," Dottie said, "how are Prince Henry and Alex?"  
"They're doing well," Philip replied tersely.  
"Glad to hear it!" Dottie clapped in amusement.  
"Oh yes," Stu added, "especially since you don't have a great track record with this sort of thing."  
Dottie and Stu laughed together. Philip rolled his eyes.  
Stu continued, "Now, I'm sure we've all read the Waterloo Letters, but—"  
"I haven't," Philip interrupted.  
"I'm... sorry?"  
"I haven't read the letters."  
"Oh." Stu was taken aback. "Why not?"  
"Because they're _love letters_ , you _twits_! It doesn't matter if they're between two men or two women or a man and a woman or even one of those poly triad things! They were never meant to see the light of day!  
"It's bad enough that Senator Richards dragged them from the closet and aired them out for all to see! It's bad enough MI6 and the CIA and all the state agencies of all the nations of all the world pored over them to make sure no state secrets slipped out! It's _bad enough_ that the tabloids and the twitter mongers and even the _reputable_ news sources tore them to pieces and put their dismembered _corpses_ on display!  
"The last thing Prince Henry needs is his judgmental, homophobic _prick_ of an older brother critiquing his prose! So no, I haven't read them, nor do I _ever_ plan to. The fact of their existence is all I needed to know exactly what they are: The _private_ correspondence between a young man and the love of his life.  
"And if you're planning on putting yet another of those infernal _quotes_ on that screen, I will have you arrested for _treason_!"  
Both Dottie and Stu gulped at that. Dottie turned to the projectionist and motioned to cut the planned "infernal quotes".  
Stu regained his speech faculties first. "So," he tendered in a small voice, "you admit Henry and Alex are in love?"  
"It's painfully obvious, yes."  
"So why were you so against Prince Henry being gay?"  
"Because...." Philip grasped for words. The adrenaline rush from his tirade was dissipating. "When Richards published those letters, I was terrified. Terrified that Alexander Claremont-Diaz would be another Wallis Simpson. It wasn't just that he's a man. He's also American and Hispanic and probably Catholic, and, yes, I know how bad that sounds, but in my frantic, fear-addled brain, it all added up to another Wallis Simpson. That the public or the peerage or Parliament would hate him and Henry would have to lose everything he worked for one way or the other.  
"So I tried to make him see sense. Or what I thought was sense. You see, royals aren't allowed to marry for love. It's part of the deal we make to be royals, and if we go back on that deal, bad things happen. Edward VIII lost the crown. My mother spent ten long years campaigning, and still ended up losing everything. I tried to tell Henry that it wasn't worth it. That if he wanted to be happy he had to play the game. That the best he could hope for was to make Alexander his George Villiers or his Sarah Churchill and go down in history with naught but a wink and a nudge and a 'know what I mean?'  
"And I will admit to a certain... visceral disgust at the thought of my brother's proclivities — preferences, preferences, the thought of my brother's _preferences_ — and that may have motivated me to be extra blunt with my comments and my pleading and my overall pricketry. But at the end of the day, Henry has the trump card. He's family. And if his happiness depends on me learning to be okay with homosexuality, then I will do it.  
"And, well, I'm... genuinely ecstatic that I was wrong. Surprised, but ecstatic. I'm overjoyed that Henry _can_ marry for love, secure in the knowledge that the public want a gay prince, that the _peerage_ want a gay prince, that Parliament is actively working out how to deal with the succession issues this will inevitably cause."  
"Well, that's lovely." Dottie dabbed her eyes at Philip's heartfelt speech. "But, what about when Henry came out to you, before the letters were published?"  
"The thought of Alexander was in the back of my mind even then," Philip replied. "My..." His thought trailed off. He snapped back to the conversation, a little faster than before. "I had noticed the way Henry and Alexander were constantly mooning over each other. Since those two destroyed my wedding cake, I'd been a little afraid that they would realize it and fall in together, what with the enforced proximity."  
"Ah yes," Stu replied wistfully, "when they started their relationship on this very set."  
The audience laughed on cue. Philip rolled his eyes again.  
Dear God, did he need a drink.


	5. Chapter 5

Philip was on his fifteenth drink. Or was it his sixteenth? Seventeenth?  
"I'll have what he's having."  
Philip turned to see the familiar fluorescent glare of Henry's friend. What was his name?  
"Percy, what are you doing here?"  
"We've been over this Philip, call me Pez, like the sweets."  
"Percival..."  
Pez harrumphed at that. "If you're going to be like that, it's Perseus. My father loved the classics."  
" _What_ are you _doing_ here?"  
"Mazzy sent me."  
Philip was taken aback. "Who gave you the authority to call her that?"  
"She did," Pez replied. "She has a much lower threshold of familiarity than you do, remember?"  
"Oh, right."  
"Now, what are you doing here?"  
"Drowning my sorrows."  
"Which ones?"  
"I don't know."  
"Then I guess they're drowned. Come on, then." Pez took Philip by the arm to pull him up.  
"No wait," Philip shook out of Pez's grasp. "Did you see _This Morning_?"  
"As it happens, yes." Pez returned to his seat for the long haul. "Your little speech went viral. You're not having second thoughts are you?"  
"No, no, I meant every word I said." And even a few he didn't.  
"What about what you didn't say?"  
"What didn't I say?"  
"I noticed your stutter when you took credit for noticing FirstPrince. You were about to say something about Mazzy weren't you?"  
"I... Yes."  
"What?"  
"I- well..."  
Pez put him out of his misery. "I know all about Mazzy scheming to make FirstPrince reality. I know that she outed Henry to you, and I tore into her about that. Not sure she got the message, but still. I know she did the whole thing to make you happy, somehow, and I think I finally get what she meant and—"  
"I fear she's wrong," Philip cut in.  
"What?"  
"I fear she's wrong. This time."  
"About what?"  
"About little Henry and Catherine."  
"What about them?" Pez was getting annoyed.  
"That I'll be a good father to them. That I won't break them, like I did Dad and Mum and Bea and Henry and Mazzy and—"  
"Hey! Your Highness!" Pez grabbed the prince's royal chin. "You did not break your father. The cancer did that. You did not break your mother. The cancer did that. You did not break your sister. The cancer did that. And as for Henry and Mazzy, neither of them came anywhere close to breaking. I should know, I'm close friends with both of them."  
"I- thank you." Philip jerked his chin from Pez's grasp. "But it's more than that. I _fear_ Mazzy's wrong this time. All the other times, I _hoped_ she was wrong. And it was more bearable then."  
"Oh lord," Pez muttered. "Listen," he said to Philip, "You'll be a great dad. You adore your children. They mean the world to you. But I will say, sitting here, getting pissed off your -rse, worrying about how good a father you'll be, is a self-fulfilling prophecy. Get home. Your wife needs you, your children need you, your country needs you."  
"Right, yes, of course." Philip stood up, a little too quickly, and stumbled. "Oh, but Mazzy's going to be so mad at me!"  
Pez caught him before he hit the ground. "Maybe a little, but she will be overjoyed that you're back home with her where you belong. And in the morning, you're getting a therapist."  
"No."  
"Philip..." Pez sighed in anger. The prince was surprisingly heavy for five foot nine. "You need help. And this guy," he motioned at the bartender, "her job is to sell you booze, not fix your problems. Now let's get you home!"  
"Hey, what about this gin and tonic!" the bartender cut in. "You didn't even drink it!"  
"Just put it on my tab."

Pez was in the Anmer garden, Philip sprawled along the back seat of his car snoring away without a care in the world.  
Mazzy came down with Philip's equerry to help Pez bring the prince inside.  
"Thank you so much Pez. And I'm really sorry about this."  
"You should be. I had to cancel a date with the two most beautiful women in the world!"  
After Philip had been safely squirreled away in his bed, and the equerry had gone back to sleep, Mazzy came out of her room after ensuring Philip was comfortable to find Pez at her door.  
"You need to get a therapist." He held out a card.  
Mazzy took it. "I know, and I've been meaning to find him one, but,"  
"No, you _both_ need to get a therapist. Individually and together."  
"What?" Mazzy looked at the card. "Couple's counselling? We don't need that!"  
"Yes, you do. Do you know why he was drowning his sorrows? Because he fears you're wrong this time. And do you know why I have to qualify that?"  
Mazzy's face fell. "Because he usually hopes I'm wrong." She fell back on the wall.  
"Yes. He has absolutely no confidence in your opinions, despite your impressive track record."  
"Not despite. Because of." Mazzy slid to the floor. "He desperately wants to serve his country, do the best good he can, but he's so naive and stubborn and self-centered. It's how the queen was able to make him act so horribly to his family. He's so selfless and well-meaning, but he doesn't know how to make it work, how to play the game. But I do. I'm everything he's not. I'm worldly and flexible and very good at finding out what makes people happy, and what makes them sad, and what makes them angry, and afraid, and disgusted. But Philip is the only person I genuinely want to make happy. But lately, I've been worrying about that. What with the scheming behind his back and—"  
"Maz," Pez interrupted, "this is something you need to tell a therapist, not me. Call them in the morning. They also do individual sessions."  
"Right, sorry."  
"As for me, I've going to see if I can salvage my date night."  
"Right. Sorry about that." Mazzy gazed at the card in her hands. There was something she needed to say. "Oh, feel free to tell June and Nora about this. They deserve to know."  
"You're right they do," Pez replied. "That's why I already told them."  
And with that barb, Pez left.


	6. Chapter 6

Philip woke up with an absolutely pounding headache. Maybe it was seventeen drinks, after all.  
Mazzy came to the rescue with a pot of tea.  
"Thank you Mazzy." Philip drank three cups dry and poured a fourth. His headache was subsiding.  
"Of course dear." Mazzy wrung her hands over each other. She was incredibly nervous.  
"Mazzy, are you alright?"  
"I- no. No, I am not alright."  
"What's wrong? Was it my binge last night? I promise it won't happen again."  
"No, no," Mazzy assured. "Well, yes, but..."  
"But what?"  
"We should see a therapist."  
"No."  
"Philip please, we're both broken. Or at least dented. And it's not fair to our children, or the country, or each other."  
"We do not need _therapy_." Philip had his back up. "We can make this work without outside help."  
"It wasn't my idea. It was Pez's."  
"Oh." Philip relaxed, thought it over.  
Mazzy noticed. "See, this is exactly why we need therapy. You don't trust me. You never really have. Not since the queen got to you."  
"I..." Philip's thought trailed off again. "Do you have a number?"  
Mazzy noticed the stutter. She sighed. "Pez gave me a card. They do couple's counselling and individual therapy."  
"Let's call them up together, shall we."

Over the following months, a woman named Theresa came by Anmer Hall three times a week. On Mondays, she talked to Philip. On Wednesdays, she talked to Mazzy. On Fridays, she talked to them both together. 

"You're not going to tell her anything I tell you, right?"  
"Not without your permission. And even then, it's better if you tell her."  
"You're not going to make me tell her anything, are you?"  
"I will not push the issue, but there are always problems that can only be resolved if you tell her."  
"It's not like she doesn't know already. She always knows. She's always right. It's so infuriating sometimes. And before you ask, yes, she knows that too."  
"I wasn't going to ask that, Your Highness. I was going to ask if there's anything you think she doesn't know. That you think she's wrong about."  
"No, of course not. Again, she's always right."

"Philip and I, we're each half a king, at best."  
"How so?"  
"Well, he wants to make everyone happy, but he has no idea how. While I know how to make people happy, but I don't really want to. Except Philip and our children. I think."  
"You think?"  
"Philip's been infuriating me lately. I mean, he's endearing, but he's so naive and stubborn and self-centered that I've had to go behind his back several times to make sure he doesn't paint himself into a corner"  
"How so?"  
"I invited Alex to our wedding solely to get Philip to realize that Henry wouldn't be happy lying about his sexuality."  
"That's... convoluted."  
"I know. But it worked. It's just... Ever since he sold his soul to the queen, he hasn't been the same."

"I'm still not sure about this 'couple's counselling' thing, Mazzy."  
"Neither am I, but Pez thinks it's a good idea."  
"Who is Pez?"  
"Percy Okonjo. Henry's friend. And Mazzy's apparently."  
"I see. And how did that happen, Mazzy?"  
"We both noticed Alex and Henry mooning over each other at the Rio Olympics. We conspired to get them together."  
"Not very well, I must say. It took you what? Four years?"  
"I'm a very patient woman, Philip. And I trusted Pez to nudge him in just the right way."  
"If you trust Pez so much, why didn't you marry him?"  
"Because I don't love him, you twit!"  
"Mazzy, what did we say about name-calling?"  
"Right, sorry. Because I don't love him, Philip. I love you."  
"You have a funny way of showing it."


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you ask, no Philip is not a fan of _Yet Another Fantasy Gamer Comic_. He just has stuff in common with Glon - including the brother in a relationship with another man, now that I think of it.

Weeks passed without progress. Philip and Mazzy just went around in circles. It wasn't until the sixth week that Theresa made a breakthrough.

"You know, your wife is always saying you were never the same since you, and I quote, 'sold your soul to the queen'."  
"It wasn't that." Philip's answer was reflexive.  
"Oh?"  
"It- I..." Philip sagged back into his seat. "I don't know why I said that. She's always right."  
"Is she?" Theresa put down her notes. "You obviously don't think so."  
"I do so."  
"Typical."  
"Typical!"  
"Mazzy has always said you're stubborn."  
"I- you!"  
"Yes?"  
Philip sighed. He sat forward again. "It wasn't what I did for my father. Did to myself. It's just. Mazzy isn't like me. She's my opposite in every way. Where I'm naive, she's worldly. Where I'm stubborn, she's flexible. Where I'm self-centered, she's focussed on others. But there's also a dark side to that. Where I'm selfless, she's selfish. Where I'm well-meaning, she's malicious. And she's happy being selfish and malicious. She's happy scheming behind other people's backs. She's happy playing the game!"  
"The game?"  
"Politics."  
"I see. And you aren't?"  
"Not really. I want to serve my country, to the best of my ability. That's why I joined the RAF. That's why I'm obsessed with legacy and kingship. That's why I was so worried about Henry and Alexander. That's why the queen was able to twist me up so much. Turn me against my own family."  
"And how did this affect your relationship with your wife?"  
"Mazzy and I, our marriage was just this side of arranged." Philip held two fingers about a centimetre apart. "Mum would never agree to any formal arrangements, not after what she went through to marry Dad. But Mazzy's family were early supporters of Prince Arthur and old friends besides, so when Mazzy and I popped out at about the same time, there was a certain understanding."  
"Do you not love your wife?"  
"I do, I love her to pieces," Philip answered immediately. "But I never got the chance to love anyone else."  
"If you did, what would you have done?"  
Philip spent a few seconds in silent contemplation. "Probably have joined the clergy. Forsook my claims and let Henry be king."  
"Why?"  
"Because... Because I'm only half a king, at best. I want to make my country happy, to serve the public and the peerage and Parliament. But I have no idea how! That's all Mazzy! But she's a selfish, malicious witch — her words, not mine — whose only desires are her own and my happiness. And I'm afraid. Afraid that if I want to be king, I have to turn into her. Selfishness and malice included."  
"Why would you think that?"  
"Because the queen's like that." Philip was on a frantic roll now. "A selfish, malicious person who wants nothing more than to be queen. But she hides behind a veneer of faith and family values, wraps herself up in hypocrisy, and I'm terrified about it! It's already happened to me! I've already turned into her, and I'm trying to turn back, but it's so difficult! And... and..." Philip trailed off, tears streaming down his face "And I don't know how to fix it."  
"Would you like me to get Martha?"  
"Why bother, she knows this already."  
"No, she doesn't."  
Philip blinked in surprise. "What?"  
Theresa reached forward to give the prince a light touch. "Martha thinks the only reason you're opposed to her opinions is what happened between you and the queen. And while she knows you're only 'half a king', she is also only 'half a king', and the other half at that. You know the ends, she knows the means. She wants you to be happy, Philip. And the only reason she's unhappy is that you don't trust her."  
"That's— that's not what she said back in school."  
"What did she say back in school?"  
"She equated us. Called us the same. A princess's son and an earl's daughter with designs on the throne. And, at the time, I thought it was true. But as time wore on, as I got to know her better, I learned we weren't the same. And then Dad was diagnosed, and Mazzy begged and pleaded that I let him die a commoner. But I refused. I couldn't let him die like that, not after everything he did for us, for Mum and Henry and Bea and me. My family deserves my loyalty, at whatever cost to me."  
"Would it be safe to say you felt abandoned in a time of need?"  
"I—" Philip was startled at the sudden clarity he felt. "Yes. I think it would be safe to say that."  
"Do you want me to get Mazzy now?"  
"Yes. Yes I do. I don't think this can wait until Friday."

It was five agonizing minutes before the equerry found Mazzy, and five more agonizing minutes until Mazzy appeared.  
"I'm sorry it took me so long, but little Henry is so very hungry right now." The baby prince was still suckling at her breast.  
"What about little Catherine?"  
"Fed, burped, out like a light. Nanny's watching over her right now."  
"Good, good."  
"Philip, isn't there something you wanted to tell your wife?"  
"I was curious about that." Mazzy sat on the couch, next to her husband. "What's wrong?"  
"It's just... I feel... It wasn't the queen."  
"It... wasn't?" Mazzy cocked her head like a quizzical spaniel. "Then, why don't you trust me?"  
"Because we're not the same! We never were the same!"  
"I know that, I never said— oh. Oh dear."  
"A princess's son and an earl's daughter with designs on the throne. You said that."  
"I know I said that. But I was young and naive then. I was still learning how to play the game, how to be a person."  
"Well, it hurt. Not then, but later."  
"Oh, I'm so sorry Philip. I should have realized that was affecting you. Why didn't I see that?"  
"I—" Philip had another moment of clarity. "Because it didn't really hit me until the cancer. That's when I found out how different we really were."  
"I'm... sorry?"  
"My family deserves my loyalty, at whatever cost to me. You didn't see that. I mean, you did, you always did. You always understood, on an intellectual level, why I did what I did. But you never really _saw_ why I did what I did. The queen did. And she used that."  
"Oh- oh god." The full weight of what she did finally hit Mazzy. "I abandoned you. I didn't support you. I left you to your own devices, thinking they would lead you back to me, but they never did. And now I've trapped you in this marriage with these children, and—"  
"Hey!" Philip but a brusque arm on his wife's shoulder. "You did not trap me. I cannot imagine loving anyone else. If you did not exist, I would have become a priest. Avoided marriage and kingship entirely." He cradled a more gentle hand around his son, still suckling at Mazzy's breast. "And I love our children. Little Harry and little Cathy. It's one of the two things I'm happy you were right about. The other being Henry and Alexander."  
Mazzy sniffled in despair, barely holding it together. The baby chose that moment to decide he was full. "Take him, Philip. Please."  
After everything was adjusted to burp little Harry, Philip continued. "I'm only half a king at best, Mazzy. I've always known that. I'm too naive and stubborn and self-centered to lead on my own. But I want to lead. I want to serve my nation to the best of my ability. I want to serve my family. And I was terrified that, in order to do that, I would have to become someone else. Someone who is worldly and flexible and focussed on others, but also selfish and malicious and revels in it."  
The dismay and dejection were written all over Mazzy's face. "Oh, Pippy—"  
"But I don't! We complement each other! Complete each other! I know the ends, you know the means. I want to serve, you know how to serve. I want to make people happy, you can make it so."  
"Oh, Pippy...." That saved it.  
"And, I know it's a little late, but, will you be my queen?"  
"Yes, Pippy, of course I will! There's nothing I would love more than that! And not because I would be queen, but because _you_ would be king."  
It was a wonderful moment. So of course baby Harry chose that exact moment to spit up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to clarify that Philip and Mazzy's sessions with Theresa did not end here. Two epiphanies and a delayed proposal do not a relationship fix. There are a lot of habits that must be unlearned.
> 
> Also, I lied when I said "William" was just a fourth name. It was a deliberate call back to William & Mary, the co-sovereigns. Henry's not the only one with a prophetic name.

**Author's Note:**

> Scheming behind your loved ones' backs always has fallout. Always. 
> 
> Prince Arthur's diagnosis and their subsequent reactions caused Philip and Mazzy to lose trust in each other, and that set their relationship on the rocks. It didn't help that Mazzy "knows everything" and "is always right". It grated on Philip - who subconsciously knew she was wrong at least once - and invited Mazzy to start scheming.
> 
> And scheming behind your loved ones' backs always has fallout. Always. 
> 
> Theresa has a long and thankless task ahead of her.


End file.
